


dys • phoria

by pac



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Gender Dysphoria
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 16:08:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14358942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pac/pseuds/pac
Summary: After so many years he still doesn’t have the right words to explain it… so he doesn’t. He reasons that a lot of people probably feel uncomfortable sometimes, one of those unspoken facts of life, or whatever.





	dys • phoria

**Author's Note:**

> Personally, I don't like writing chaptered works, but here I am anyway. It's a tentative three right now, but I'm basically winging it so keep your expectations low. Like, maybe I'll abandon it or maybe end game will be Willy in panties, who knows. 
> 
> Please PLEASE let me know if there is anything I have missed tagging/should tag for safety's sake.
> 
> Not beta read and to be honest, I hardly skimmed it in the editing process.

Sometimes William has hair on his chest and he feels settled in his broad frame. He can act genuinely comfortable in his friend groups, whether at home or in Toronto, and no one would ever be able to tell that’s not always the case. 

 

Sometimes William waxes or shaves and hates their obnoxiously male body hair and huge limbs that just don’t feel right. On some of those days, they still have to act like they feel like they belong, and those are the worst days. 

 

No, no- he thinks the worst days are when it catches him off guard in the middle of the locker room. When his day starts off fine like any other, he’s leaving a mess around the room like he always does, like the guys always chirp him for. Then, he’s undressing or getting into his gear and he realizes something just isn’t right. It’s not like they can curl up as small as they can in their stall without questions, or hide in the showers until all the guys are on the ice for practice just because they feel too exposed… 

 

After so many years he still doesn’t have the right words to explain it… so he doesn’t. He reasons that a lot of people probably feel uncomfortable sometimes, one of those unspoken facts of life, or whatever. 

 

William’s thankful for the times that his personal  _ off- _ days correspond with off-days for the Leafs. At least on those days he can succumb to the urge to curl up in a ball, shave if he needs to, go back to bed and cry if he feels like it. He stays in on those days, most of the time doesn’t respond to the guys’ texts, sometimes calls Alex so he can tell him things like- “I wish I were there to hug you, Willy, I’m sorry you’re feeling so awful”- and he doesn’t call him ‘bro’ or ‘dude’ and something about it’s comforting. 

 

Alex gets it, and that’s enough for Willy. Kasperi doesn’t know, Willy doesn’t think he’d understand even if he sat him down to try to explain it, so he’s never tried. It would be a lot easier having a roommate that knows… but it never feels worth it to put himself out there. As much as he loves Kappy, he’s not the most compassionate of people, and Willy wouldn’t be able to handle the hurt of all the possible things he could say. He already has to assure himself that Kappy doesn’t mean anything mean by the weird looks and minor scoffs when he excuses his complete silence by saying he’s having a bad day, or when he can’t even pull himself out of bed some mornings. 

 

It’s not always so bad that it completely consumes him… but sometimes… 

 

~ 

 

Willy wakes up slowly, rolls over into the soft cotton sheets to avoid their eyes being assaulted by the morning light stretching through the bedroom. Willy lets out a groan of dissatisfaction and immediately  _ knows _ . They groan again and it tapers off in a sort-of-sob. 

 

It’s been a good week, a good month even, and Willy knows that as soon as they open their eyes it’s going to be the start of a shit day. The spike of anxiety has their heart rate too high for them to have any hope of falling back asleep, on top of it. 

 

Without lifting their head off the pillow, they reach for their phone on the bedside table. They’ll need to draft a text to the group chat about bailing on the day’s plans. Even worse, they’ll need to explain that they won’t be going to Kappy, who’s already awake going by the noise coming from the general direction of their kitchen. 

 

The sooner Willy gets that done, the sooner they can get back into bed without conflicting plans- so Willy sucks in their wobbling bottom lip, gives up on scrolling through the group chat and gets up. 

 

Keeping the plush blanket tight around their shoulders, like hiding the bulk of their shoulders will make their frame any less imposing, Willy meanders into the kitchen with downcast eyes. 

 

“Mornin’!” Willy winces at the greeting, Kappy’s general excitement for the day too much to deal with face on. 

 

“Hey,” Willy mumbles back, slumps against the wall in the entrance to the shared kitchen, and doesn’t beat around the bush, “I’m not feeling well.” 

 

“Oh,” the disappointment is clear, “Can I get you anything?” 

 

“No, I think I’m just gonna go back to bed,” their voice reaches just above a whisper, the bass of it still rumbles in their throat uncomfortably, “Sorry…” 

 

“That’s for the best, if you’re not 100%...” Kappy agrees easily, but the spirit’s sucked out of his voice and it makes Willy’s stomach roll with guilt. 

 

“It’ll be more fun without me, anyway,” it’s meant to be a joke but there’s no laugh in their voice, and most of Willy believes it wholeheartedly. Willy thinks they should probably eat with Kappy, at least, but they don’t even want to look up to see the expression on his face. It’s probably a bit of disbelief because Willy doesn’t  _ look  _ sick, and then a lot of frustration because Kasperi always hates when he thinks he doesn’t know something. He’s still better off not knowing this. 

 

Willy’s already slumping back to their room when Kappy’s voice comes down the hall, something about ‘it will’. They barely get the generic bowing-out text sent before they’re in a ball, tangled in every blanket they own to weigh them down. 

 

The apartment door closing behind Kappy later on is loud enough to startle Willy from the restless nap, signalling it’s safe to get up and mope around. So Willy gets up and forces some food down, pulls up Netflix on their iPad and takes it to the bathroom to watch while they shave their chest.

 

Willy wouldn’t say anything about the grooming is fun. It’s mostly cathartic, whether they shave their whole body or just take a bubble bath and exfoliate, it’s the closest they get to comfort on these days. Something about softening the work-toughened skin, clearing the canvas of wiry hair… it’s all they’ve ever found that felt like it helped. If they’re honest, Willy’s never had the guts to do any more than that. Sometimes the freshly shaven expanses of skin seem like too much after these days pass, but on the other side it’s much easier to deal with. 

 

Willy’s rubbing in the fragrant lotion they know will stop any unwanted razor burn or itch, turned away from the bathroom mirror to best ignore the tone and definition in their chest as they do so, when there’s a faint knocking. Willy’s momentarily stunned that there’s anyone at the apartment door, and waits until the knocking comes again before they put down the bottle and start towards it. 

 

They snatch their biggest, most nondescript sweater from the end of the bed on the way past and pull it on. Willy hollers out a ‘hold on’ from under the neck of the sweater when a third set of knocks starts and rushes to the door as soon as they pull their head through. 

 

A heavy ball of dread settles in their stomach the very second they fling the door open to reveal Auston Matthews. Willy immediately runs over the last ten-or-so seconds in their head, trying to decipher why they didn’t just ignore it, or why they’d speak up and give away their presence in the apartment before even checking the peep-hole. Hell, they could’ve checked the peep-hole at all and told Auston they were contagious or  _ something. _ This just feels like they set themselves up. 

 

“Hey!” Auston’s face lifts into one of those too-bright smiles, the kind that makes anyone feel just as bright inside. It still sort of works on Willy, but they can’t muster the same kilowatt grin. 

 

“Oh, hey,” Willy mumbles, leaning feebly against the door, gaze falling to the floor between them, “What’re you doing here?” 

 

“Well, I didn’t really feel like going out with the guys if you weren’t gonna be there, so I figured maybe some PS4 and company would help you feel better?” Auston’s hopeful expression when Willy looks up for just a second dooms them. There’s no way Willy can find a suitable excuse to send Auston away  _ and _ mean it enough for it to be convincing on such short notice… 

 

“It might,” Willy shrugs and steps back another foot to let the door hang open for Auston to enter. 

 

The next few hours end up being not-the-worst. When Willy fails and fails some more at being at all attentive to the first-person-shooter Auston picks to play, Auston doesn’t even question it and keeps playing on his own- says ‘if you’re too tired to keep up, I don’t mind beating computers too’. It’s good enough, and Willy curls up with the throw blanket next to Auston. 

 

“You smell good,” Auston comments, a handful of in-game-deaths after Willy starts slumping into his side. 

 

“New lotion,” Willy mumbles and immediately pushes their face into the blanket pulled around their shoulders to hide how quickly their cheeks heat up, just knowing Auston noticed it. It’s a combination of embarrassment and flattery, both of which have been simmering in Willy since Auston got there. In the middle of preening, they’re interrupted just because Auston didn’t want to hang out without them… just more complicated feelings to add onto their existing pile of complicated feelings. 

 

The most complicated-feeling-inducing part is how Auston hasn’t been intrusive, asking what’s wrong or asking why Willy’s barely spoken, or why they’re curled up like a child. Auston isn’t pressing and it’s similar to the comfort Alex’s presence, even over the phone, brings on days like these. It doesn’t help the internal anxiety-spiral, but the solid warmth of Auston next to Willy at least keeps them semi-present. 

 

There’s a long stretch of silence broken only by faint video game effects, then Auston speaks up, “You know, you can always talk to me, Willy. About anything, right?” 

 

Willy bites the inside of their lip, hard enough to feel the sting of it, and clenches their fists where they’re hidden in the plush blanket. The last thing Willy wants is for Auston to feel somehow left out like Kappy so often does, like Willy doesn’t trust them or something… at least with Kappy their friendship is seasoned enough to handle it. 

 

“It’s really nothing…” 

 

“It’s not nothing,” Auston doesn’t sound upset, just insistent, “But I don’t want you to think I’d judge you, for whatever it is, or do anything but my best to help…” 

 

It’s so sincere it’s almost too much to bear. Willy knows Auston really would do his best… but there’s no good way to explain that his best still wouldn’t be enough, that there’s no way to fix this the way Auston thinks. 

 

“I know,” Willy whispers, peeking out of the blanket to see Auston still focused on the TV, thankfully, “I appreciate it…” 

 

Auston’s expression pinches a bit, but he’s always been very good at keeping a straight face. Willy knows that Auston cares so much about the people close to him and has always, in hockey and in life, taken as much responsibility as he can, like his dream is to fix everything for everyone. He can patch up millions of Leafs fans’ hopes and dreams but he can’t use his incredible skill to will away Willy’s problems. 

 

“Just you being here is good enough…” Willy offers next, moving an elbow out to nudge it into Auston’s side. That helps, gets Auston’s browline to relax. 

 

“Okay,” Auston hums, “The offer always stands…” 

 

“Thanks, Aus,” Willy tries to put just as much sincerity as Auston gave him into the responding whisper. 

 

Auston doesn’t leave until a few hours later, just after Kappy texts Willy to let them know he’s on his way back. By that point, Willy’s relaxed enough not to retreat to their room instantly, enough that they give a shrug when Kasperi asks if they’re feeling better. Willy thinks they’ll be fine. 

 


End file.
